


Talking To Myself

by Aeacus



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Horror, Mirrors, Paranoia, Psychological Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26597188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeacus/pseuds/Aeacus
Summary: It's not paranoia if they are out to get you.Dirk's alone in the apartment, or is he?Modern Day, Non-Sburb, Short Horror Story
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	Talking To Myself

It’s a small apartment tucked away in the middle of a bustling city with only one window to the outside world that opens up to a dingy dark alleyway and is covered by laundry most of the time, but Dirk still can’t get away from the feeling he is being watched.

His work is only partially confidential. The worst case he had was some debugging project by the government, but that didn’t even require an NDA to be signed. He has scanned his apartment anyways for any video or audio signals being recorded or transmitted out but found none. He knows though, he’s being watched the same way someone knew if they are hungry or not. He can feel eyes on his skin. Makes him itch and twitch if he isn’t absorbed in a project. The feeling follows him from room to room but it is the worst in the bathroom. Even weirder because there isn’t a window in there. 

He has to figure something out or he is going to go mad. 

A week later he catches something out of the corner of his eye. He’s not sure what it was or even if it was something but it went along with the feeling of being watched again. Plus he’s been finding more things out of place. Like a cup by his desk that he didn’t use. Towels ending up crumpled on the floor. He’s even found open programs on his computer that he’s sure he hasn’t used. If something in the apartment... He has to do something to catch the watcher so he’ll become the watcher himself and see how they feel about that. He quickly builds a little bot that has just enough memory to capture maybe an hour’s worth of footage from the five cameras around its little cube case. There’s still some angles that Dirk couldn’t see but this gives him a chance. 

He doesn’t use it as soon as it’s completed. No, not with the watcher creeping up again. He waits a week. There are no more flashes out of the corner of his eye, and only one thing is found out of place, but the watcher is still there, still present and making his skin crawl with unseen eyes watching Dirk. 

Finally he makes his move. He palms the little bot and takes into the bathroom, casually setting it on the counter and purposefully not looking at it. He goes about his routine instead. Brushing his teeth, checking his face, pissing out last night’s orange soda, showering with shampoo and soap. He dries off and stands in front of the mirror again, one towel around his waist, the other massaging his hair dry. He styles it with the usual products found on the other side of the counter from the bot that he’s not looking at. Maybe if he doesn’t pay it any attention his watcher won’t notice it and will reveal themselves. He can only hope. He doesn’t know how many times he’ll have to use the bot or if it’ll even work. Five hours of footage for every hour of living. It could get tedious. 

He’s done with the bathroom and hour later. He finally acknowledges the cube by picking it up again, palming it as casually as he dropped it off with his eyes on the bathroom door. He dresses as fast as he can, grabbing his keys and shoes with the other hand before he’s out his front door. He finishes dressing in the elevator down to the streets, moving quickly to the nearby internet cafe. 

He orders his usual and grabs the station in the back corner. It smells a little fishy but he’ll sanitize himself later. He plugs the bot into the computer and pulls up the video player. There are five files waiting for him. He starts with the top one, focused on the ceiling. It doesn’t catch much. Little movements from Dirk’s hand as he passed over the bot. An unflattering view from when he leaned into the mirror. Steam billowing out, changing the focus a bit. More movement but everything that Dirk can track. No watcher in this hour of riveting footage. He sighs. An hour wasted. He pulls up the next one. Then he pulls up the other three as well. He’ll watch them all side by side. The computer screen is wide enough that he won’t lose that much resolution.

He settles in for another hour of watching himself. At least from these angles he can actually see himself. The four sides provide pretty good coverage. Their edges overlap a little which is disconcerting until he gets used to it. 

The morning routine plays out in front of him. The bit in front of the mirror, toilet, shower, drying off, mirror again. He’s about to give up, eyes sore from staring at the screen trying to catch all the little details when he sees it. He immediately stops all four videos and replays the moment on the two that have the mirror and himself in their view at a slow frame rate. He nearly gasps out loud as it shows the watcher clear as day.

The angle of him shows him looking and reaching down for the hair products on the far side of the counter. The angle of the mirror shows his arms doing the same. But his eyes, his eyes don’t look towards his hands. The eyes in the mirror look towards the recording little bot. Then returns back up at the same time Dirk would have been looking straight on in the mirror. 

Dirk pauses the footage again. He knows he didn’t look down at it. That was the biggest thing. He didn’t slip up. He wouldn’t slip up like that. He looks back at the not mirror version of himself on the tape and sure enough his head is tilted away. Unlike the mirror version. 

Who the fuck is in the mirror.

He walks the streets to keep his thoughts moving. The sense of being watched is less out here. And now it makes sense why. There are fewer mirrors out here. Whatever that thing was doesn’t get a face to look back at him. It poses a problem though. He can’t stay away from home forever. He can’t stay away from mirrors forever. How is he going to handle this? 

Does he need to look into exorcism? Does he need to stop taking drugs? Wait, he doesn’t do drugs. Does he need to start taking drugs? Does he need to break that mirror and look into whatever is inside that wall? But that’s an inside wall, nothing can fit there. Fucking hell, what is that thing that was looking back at him?

He walks the city for almost another hour before ending up back close to his apartment. He stops by the local grocer to pick up food. The round mirrors in the corners now weigh on him. Is it there? Is it still watching him? He doesn’t dare look up. He grabs something easy for dinner and takes it home. 

The closest he gets to the bathroom is to close the door. Otherwise he stays in the kitchen to finish prepping dinner. He looks around now aware of how many reflective surfaces there are in the place. Is that thing in all mirrors or just true mirrors? Just one mirror or all of them? Does everyone else have something looking back at them?

He has so many questions but no answers. He’s sure the web doesn’t have any. He’s been around the block and hasn’t heard a whisper. The most are a couple cheesy horror scenes set up so the audience can see something the protagonist can’t. Cheap scares that aren’t so cheap now that it’s real. 

Heading back to the main room he lays down on his couch to try to get some sleep at such a late hour. But who could sleep with the knowledge that the watcher was himself in a mirror. He tosses and turns, trying to find a comfortable enough position to turn off his brain. After two hours, he can tell it’s not working.

He sits up and rubs his face. He needs answers. The internet doesn’t have them. He’ll sound crazy to his friends. There’s only one source.

He gets up and goes to the bathroom. He turns on the light and stares at the mirror. It looks like him. It mimics him perfectly. Even all the small nuanced motions. It’s just him. But it’s also the watcher, Dirk’s sure of that now.

“I know you’re there. You looked down and to the right when I looked down and to the left. My right and left. Not yours.” He feels ridiculous talking to this reflection but it’s not his reflection, it’s the watcher. The watcher who is mimicking his every word. His every blink. Well, he thinks every blink. He can’t see it because his eyes are closed. He should have the bot in here again. “I saw you move. I saw you. You’re there. You’re watching me. Why? Who are you? Why are you watching me? What are you?” He stares down his reflection but it doesn’t say a word. It doesn’t move any different than he does. Shoulders and chest move to his breathing. His eyes switching from side to side. Hands clenched on the edge of the sink. “Damnit. I’m not crazy. I’m not. I saw you. I saw you.” But only silence answers him. He stares at himself until his eyes ache from not blinking. His shoulders slump. It’s not going to show itself tonight. 

He returns to the couch and lays down in silence. Even the city sounds have quieted so that he can only hear his heartbeat pushing blood through his ears. What is he going to do?

He finds himself rushing through his morning routine the next day just to get out of the bathroom faster even if some of his hair products are misplaced. He keeps the bathroom door shut and tries to keep all reflective surfaces in his main work room covered. It works, but now that he knows that he’s being watched it’s somehow worse than just having a suspicion about it. 

He does some online research even though he knows it won’t turn anything up. The best suggestions he finds is to perform some sort of exorcising ritual. He makes several trips to several stores to buy all of the recommended materials. He sets up a little ceremony in his main room. The only result he gets is the smoke detector going off. Checking in the bathroom, he still feels those eyes.

He sets up more little cameras all over the place, aimed at any reflective surface. He tries to be subtle about it like he did the first time, placing one at a time. Replacing those that get knocked out of position. Their feeds are saved wirelessly and he watches so much footage of himself that he’s swearing off blonde men in his life forever. But he doesn’t catch the eyes again. The watcher slipped up once, it won’t again apparently.

His hygiene feels like it’s going to shit without his normal routine in the bathroom. He can’t continue to avoid it as much as he has been. He’ll figure some way to look at his face without a mirror he thinks as he goes to another store for some heavy duty plastic bags and a sledgehammer. The mirror shatters in one hit. Picking up the thousands of pieces is tedious and leaves his fingers bloody but the feeling of being watched is lessened. Not completely gone though.

He burns incense and tries to keep himself distracted. The smoke doesn’t help even if it’s not setting off the alarm anymore (taking out the batteries helped), but because it creates subtle movement against the dark corners of his room, catching the corner of his eye. He feels like he’s going to have whiplash on his neck from twitching and turning around so much. 

He posts his story online and gets ridicule and probing questions. If they ask him what he’s smoking one more time, he’s going to chuck the computer out the window. He posts the footage directly, the moment it shows him looking one way and his reflection looking the other. Now the questions are focused on what editing program did he use to create such a seamless transition. The computer makes a good crunching, shattering sound when it hits the alley floor.

His friends try to call him. Work opportunities slip by. He’s spending so much money on take out. But he feels like he can’t go out. The watcher uses the big plate glass windows, the side mirrors on cars, corner mirrors at the grocery store to peer at him instead since the mirror in the bathroom remains missing. His friends are worried about him, try to check on him, but he’s in such a state he doesn’t even want to answer the door. The Watcher might find them too.

He's a twitchy, greasy mess when he finally breaks down and heads out to the nearest store to get a mirror. It's just a small pocket one but it's enough. He keeps it covered until he gets upstairs and tucked away in his room again. 

He carefully slips the plastic away so that he can see the smooth surface. He flinches a little at the face that looks back at him. It’s not even the Watcher yet. It’s just the state that he’s fallen into. Dark circles under his eyes. Red patches where his face is breaking out. His hair flopped over in flat strings. He’s let himself go. 

“Please talk to me. I’m sorry. I just want to understand.”

The Watcher doesn’t answer him.

He pleads for a while until his voice starts to go hoarse. He finally covers the mirror up. He’ll try again later. Eventually he’ll get through to the Watcher. 

He’s found another piece of evidence. The bastard couldn’t hide forever. During a moment when Dirk is sure he is sleeping, one of the cameras catches a reflection of himself. But he can’t be in two places at once. So now the Watcher is freely roaming the apartment at night. That terrifies Dirk so hard his hands are trembling. How is he going to get any sleep now? He’s already been staying up late begging at the little mirror nestled in the shrine he’s built to the Watcher. Why does the Watcher ignore him while still inhabiting this place? Is it stuck here? Is it tied to Dirk somehow? The questions continue to keep themselves tangled around him. It’s not fair. It’s not right.

The Watcher is tormenting him. The Watcher still won’t answer him, won’t give him a sign through the mirror that Dirk talks to him through but Dirk finds more and more signs of him around the apartment. Things moved, food eaten, computer programs opened, files rearranged. Dirk has even found himself falling fitfully asleep on the couch and waking up sitting at the kitchen table. How is that even possible for a being trapped in a mirror? It’s getting worse, he needs help. He can’t do this alone anymore. 

He picks up the phone, hands shaking as he scrolls through his contacts. Who’s the best one to believe him? Everyone online laughed at him. His friends... no, they’re too far away to help. The police? They’ll laugh even harder. He gets to one name and pauses. It’s been a while since they talked. Maybe too long. But he’d take Dirk seriously. He always has.

He presses the call button and holds the phone up to his ear. He bites his thumbnail as he listens to the ring,

Ring,

Ring,

“‘Ello, this is Strider.”

“Bro,” Dirk sighs out, tension releasing from his body and making him sink down into the couch.

“Oh, Dirk. Hey.” There’s rustling noises as if he’s moving to a different location. “Hey, how’s it going? Haven’t heard from you in a while. Everything okay? Do you have a body we need to hide? Did you knock someone up? Did you program a virus that went rogue and is about to kill everyone?”

“No, ew no, and no. But Bro... I- I do need help.”

There’s silence on the line for a moment. “Okay. And? What sort of help dude?”

“Please just don’t fucking laugh but I think I’m haunted. Or it’s some kind of demon that’s latched onto me. It’s in the mirrors. He’s been watching me for a while and it got worse so I taped it and caught The Watcher looking at me and, christ Dave, it’s terrifying me.”

“Dude. What?”

“Don’t laugh! Fuck, I’m serious. I have footage. Things get moved in the apartment. Food gets eaten. Doors opened and closed. Hell, it’s started moving me around.”

“Dirk, Dirk, breathe for me, buddy.”

“Dave-”

“Dirk. Breathe.”

Dirk closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“It’s just your sleepwalking acting up.”

“My what.” Dirk’s eyes are wide open.

“Fuck, did I forget to tell you? When you were little you used to sleepwalk. Scared the living shit out of me the first couple of times it happened. I mean, just imagine this pale as ass kid walking out of the dark hallway staring straight ahead and doing things like normal in the dead ass middle of the night. Horror movie shit.”

“I-”

“You stopped when you were first hitting puberty. It didn’t happen again before you moved out. I guess I thought it was gone for good. Sorry I didn’t tell y-”

Dirk hangs up the phone. 

That can’t be the explanation. It’s too simple, too clean, too perfect. It explains everything. He rubs his face. He’s been pointing the cameras at reflective surfaces, not himself. If he’s just ‘waking up’ and doing normal shit, well then sure things would be moved. He could have eaten things. He could have played with his computer. He’s just been a paranoid sleepwalker. There are easy drugs to take to fix that. 

He feels like a weight has been taken off his chest. He’s not haunted, cursed, possessed. He just has a dumb older brother. 

He heads to the bathroom to take a long, well deserved shower.

Over the next month, he does his best to repair his life. He confirms the sleep walking and gets some medication. He puts his bathroom back together. He reaches out to his friends and apologizes. He puts himself back on the job market. He gets some fresh food from the grocery store, no longer afraid of his reflections. It was all in his head. 

He gets mostly back to normal. He still gets a paranoid feeling every once in a while but he can brush it off now as just a figment of his imagination. 

He’s about to start brushing his teeth one day when the lid of the toothpaste rolls off the counter. He bends down to grab it, but as he stands up, he’s in shock. Waiting there is his reflection, standing straight already with a smirk on his face. He reaches up to touch his own face but doesn’t feel the same expression.

“No, no you’re not real. There’s no such thing as the watcher. You can’t be-” The reflection’s mouth doesn’t move. “Stop. Stop. Fuck. No. No! NO!”

“Hello Dirk.”

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by some commentary on Alice Isn't Dead about how the author used his own fears to drive the character. Well, mirrors not behaving is one of my small fears. Along with puppets moving on their own and snakes not being behind glass. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
